


Until Death Knocks

by palmtreelights



Category: Power Rangers, Power Rangers Lightspeed Rescue
Genre: Alternate Universe, Brother-Sister Relationships, Family, Gen, Mythology - Freeform, Mythology References, Past Character Death, Puns & Word Play, Slight Canon Divergence, Underworld, Underworld Mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 08:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4429316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palmtreelights/pseuds/palmtreelights
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Carter falls into the Shadow Realm, Dana and Ryan embark on a journey to rescue him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Orpheus

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. Where to begin, how to keep this short. This is heavily based off Mesopotamian mythology.
> 
> Thanks to S, as usual, for the feedback, and for putting up with my running commentary on this story. I don't deserve such an amazing friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Optional musical accompaniment: 'Still Loving You' by Scorpions, not for the lyrics but for the mood.

 

The morning after they’d sealed the demons in the tomb, Dana stands at the foot of the mountain of rubble that was once the Skull Cavern. All the injured have been moved to hospitals, and the area has been roped off, with access limited to clean-up crews and authorized Lightspeed personnel.

Rangers, of course, are among those permitted entry.

It’s just after sunrise. Dana gives the sun her back as she gazes up at the debris and wonders how long it will take her to climb if she starts off at a run. It’s a terrible idea, something even Kelsey might not try without gear, but it’s tempting. It could be worth it, to see if she can get back inside the main chamber and find the tomb.

“You’ve got to stop doing this to yourself.”

Dana doesn’t turn around to face her brother, only waits for him to walk up beside her and stare at the ugly thing in front of them.

“Nothing’s changed since last night,” he says.

“Every minute that goes by is another one he’s in there,” she tells Ryan, clenching her fists. “By himself. Fighting that entire army _by himself_ —”

“Standing here isn’t going to help him any.”

She shrugs away his hand as soon as it touches her shoulder, seeing, in her mind’s eye, the writhing mass of warriors clamoring for freedom from the red-hot ground in the Shadow Realm.

He’s right, of course, but she’d rather be here than at their house, the one their father had maintained during his entire time living in the Aquabase. Maybe, if she focuses hard enough, she’ll be able to know for sure if Carter is all right. Maybe she can let him know _they’re_ all right, all of them, and that will give him the strength he needs to find a way out.

“We have to get ready for the service,” Ryan reminds her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him turn his head to watch her. In response, she digs her nails into her palms. “That won’t help any, either.”

“No,” he agrees, and this time when he places a hand on her shoulder, she lets it stay there. “But we need it anyway. All of us need it.”

“He’s not dead,” she hisses, squinting against the threat of tears building with every breath. “We don’t need a service for someone who’s _not dead_.”

His grip on her shoulder tightens, and it’s just uncomfortable enough that she snaps out of the sudden rage that had overcome her.

Sniffing, she relaxes her hands. “Does Dad know we’re out here?”

Ryan nods. “He was up when I left. He said he couldn’t really sleep, so he wrote the eu— the speech for the service.”

Dana shakes her head and gives a sharp sigh.

“Come on, let’s get out of the cleanup crew’s way.”

He takes her hand, and she lets him guide her out from the disaster area, into the streets of a city that has only just begun to wake. Exhaustion and last night’s lack of sleep hit her then, all at once, and her hold on her brother’s hand loosens as she moves close enough to him to rest her head against his shoulder.

In response, he lets her hand go and puts his arm around her so they don’t drift away as they walk.

The service isn’t for another few hours. The city will take care of most of it. Their father will be in constant contact with the mayor until then, and getting in touch with the firefighters Carter had worked with prior to joining Lightspeed. It will take place by the ocean, near the entrance to what had once been the tunnel to the Aquabase. Dana, Ryan, and the others will stand up front with Ms. Fairweather and General McKnight and a handful of other higher-ups from Lightspeed as Captain Mitchell delivers a speech that Dana refuses to think of as a eulogy. The rest, she’s not sure of, but she doesn’t care. None of it matters, because they aren’t looking for him, which is what they ought to be doing.

“You should try to sleep when we get back,” Ryan tells her as they turn a corner onto a residential street.

“Yeah.” She hates to admit it, but he’s right. As it stands, she’s not exactly sure how they get from here to their father’s house, but soon enough, that’s where they are.

It’s quiet, with their father off working with the city to prepare for the service and the others either asleep or gone elsewhere in search of the beginnings of solace, Dana supposes. She sheds her Lightspeed jacket and goes right into her old room, where she climbs into bed and falls asleep right away.

 

* * *

 

She wakes to the smell of coffee and toast. Her head hurts, and her mouth is dry, but she isn’t tired anymore, which is better than she was earlier.

She grabs a change of clothes and takes a quick shower before heading to the kitchen, where Joel is at the stove with a spatula in his hand, Kelsey is pouring coffee into a mug, and the others are sitting at the table around a plate of toast that’s almost black.

“Hey,” Chad says to Dana as she walks in. His smile is hesitant but sincere.

Dana can’t look at him for longer than a second. “Hey.”

She walks past Kelsey, plucks a mug from the end cupboard, and starts spooning sugar into it, avoiding Kelsey’s gaze as she waits for her friend to set the coffee pot back down.

Kelsey doesn’t push her, doesn’t try to talk, only glances at her as she goes to join Chad and Ryan at the table.

As she pours herself coffee, Dana listens to the sizzling in the frying pan, the scrape of the spatula on the non-stick surface. A car drives past the house, speakers blaring the latest chart-topping love song, and she knows, without a doubt, that she will hate that song for the rest of her life.

Gripping her mug tight, she joins the others at the table.

For a while, they are all silent, leaving the toast untouched. The clock on the far wall reads nine-fifteen, and the service isn’t until eleven. Dana sips at her coffee, the scent of it alone beginning to clear away her dull headache. It’s too sweet, and almost right away, she regrets not having thought to get a cup of water to go along with it. She remembers the day the demons tried to drain all the water from Mariner Bay, wonders if Marina has somehow heard of what happened yesterday.

Has it only been a day? Less than that, if she does the math. It feels like both forever and a moment all at once.

“I misjudged the toaster settings,” says Ryan, nodding at the plate of almost burnt toast.

“That’s okay,” Chad tells him. “They’re crunchy this way.”

“I like burnt toast,” Kelsey says. “It’s good dunked in coffee.”

No one follows with anything after that. Dana guesses they’re waiting for her to volunteer something, but nothing comes to her. There’s only white noise in her head, static that numbs her to the world, like she’s watching it through a pane of glass.

Joel comes over and sets a stack of small plates with forks on them and a large bowl of scrambled eggs next to the plate of toast, almost right in front of Dana.

“Eat,” he says, looking at each of them in turn. He is the most composed out of all of them, but there’s latent anger in his gaze.

“I’m not really hungry,” Chad says, shrugging, but he takes the large spoon Joel hands him in response.

“None of us is,” says Joel. “But we have to eat.”

He’s right, of course. Skipping breakfast won’t kill anyone, but it won’t help, either.

They take turns with the spoon, each taking a smaller portion than they ought to, telling Joel how good the food smells and thanking him for cooking.

When she has served herself, Dana places the spoon back in the bowl and stares at her plate. Her stomach grumbles as the others dig in, but she has no appetite, because there are only five of them at the table, and nothing is okay.

“We were supposed to go for ice cream last night,” she murmurs, her eyes unfocused as she remembers. “Yesterday morning, he asked if I wanted to go for ice cream, and I said yes and promised not to spill it on him this time.”

Kelsey sets her fork down and puts her hand on Dana’s wrist. “I’m sorry,” she breathes.

Next to Dana, Joel shifts, scowling at his breakfast, and his frustration washes over her like a breaking dam.

“You’re saying that like he’s dead,” she snaps, pulling her wrist from Kelsey’s grasp. “He’s not dead.”

“I know that—”

“So stop acting like he is!”

“I’m _not_!”

“ _Hey_ ,” says Ryan, his voice easily carrying over theirs. He’d stood as Kelsey and Dana had gone back and forth, and now that she looks at him, Dana sees the part of him that the demons brought out, the brutal power that he reins in because he knows, deep down, that he’s no monster.

“No one is saying he’s dead,” he says to Dana, every word enunciated slowly, clearly. “None of us believes that he is. Arguing with each other won’t help anyone. We’re _all_ hurting, okay?”

He keeps his gaze on hers, and she glares, refusing to back down, stubborn and angry and childish. Who does he think he is, anyway, talking to her like he understands?

But he does, doesn’t he, in his own way? And he’s right. They’re all hurting. She isn’t being fair. None of this is fair.

“Okay,” she says, and with the word goes the rage that had overcome her. “I’m sorry, Kels.”

“It’s okay,” murmurs Kelsey. “I’m sorry, too.”

“This _sucks_ ,” hisses Joel, stabbing at a clump of scrambled eggs.

“Yeah,” Chad agrees.

Glancing down at her plate, Dana shrugs. “The eggs smell _egg-cellent_.”

The others all snicker, quiet snorts, the briefest of laughs from each of them.

Dana finally manages a smile, tiny but sincere, and takes a bite.

 

* * *

 

Throughout the service, Dana holds Ryan’s hand, squeezing it tight when their father goes up to talk about the profound significance of Carter’s sacrifice. He’d heard Carter issue the order to shut the lid, it turns out—which went to show all of them just how prepared their leader had been to give up everything for the sake of Mariner Bay and the world.

At the closing of the service, the mayor states that there are already plans for construction in the damaged area, and that one of the structures will be named for the Red Ranger. The people gathered break into solemn but heartfelt applause, and Dana thinks back to the conversation at breakfast, and how, clearly, she and the team are the only ones who have any shred of hope that Carter is still alive.

Captain Mitchell leads them all back to the car, keeping reporters away with his sharp, if shattered gaze. They sit in silence the entire ride back to the house, where he drops them off and continues on his way to do more paperwork, more of the drudgery that is suddenly required to keep the clean-up efforts moving and Lightspeed from collapsing as completely as the Aquabase had.

After a minute of heavy silence in the living room, Kelsey mumbles something about Nancy and heads out the door. The others do her the courtesy of pretending they haven’t seen her wipe at the corner of her eye as she goes.

“Lunch,” Joel says once the door shuts behind Kelsey. He stands and heads for the kitchen, muttering the names of ingredients under his breath.

Chad shifts in his seat, staying put for half a minute at most before he shakes his head and stands. “I’m going for a swim.”

Once Chad has left, Dana sighs and looks up at Ryan. “What are _you_ going to do?”

“Read, I guess,” he answers.

She frowns.

“I have—I need to put this out of my mind.”

“Oh.”

Turning, he pulls her close, squeezing her a bit when she settles her head on his shoulder. “You can tag along. I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” she breathes, but she makes no move to stand. When he doesn’t either, she thinks they’ll simply stay like this a while.

Then he turns his head and whispers right into her ear, “I have an idea.”

The way he says it, his voice grounded despite being soft, puts her senses on alert. Grasping his shirt, she forces herself to keep breathing evenly.

“Come on,” he says, giving her another squeeze before he shifts and lets her go.

She moves away and lets him stand, then follows him as he goes to the small room that served as their father’s office before he and Dana had moved into the Aquabase. It’s smaller than she remembers, probably because she was younger and shorter the last time she’d been in here for any significant amount of time. There’s a large bookcase against one of the walls, crammed full of old hardbacks and library-binding paperbacks, the pages yellowed with age in the books she can see the tops of.

Ryan goes past their father’s desk, past the leather armchair that Captain Mitchell used to sit in with Dana on his lap, telling her a story about a princess who fought dragons. He must have made that one up, she realizes now, because she can’t remember ever hearing anything outside these four walls about such a story.

Shaking her head, she shuts the door, crosses the room, and joins her brother at the window, leaving behind the memories of a simpler life.

“If anyone else overheard, they’d try to talk me out of it,” he says, reaching out to feel the fabric of the open curtains. “Or worse, they’d want to come with us. But I don’t—I don’t think any of them can do this, except you.”

The heat of the day has begun to seep into the house, but Dana feels cold as he speaks. “What are you talking about?”

Meeting her gaze, he asks, “Have you heard the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice?”

“Yes.” Lovers separated by death, a perilous journey to try and bring the deceased back to life—that’s when it hits her, what he’s thinking, and her eyes widen.

“You’re going to be like Orpheus,” he tells her.

“But—” Her breath catches, and she shivers. “But Carter’s not dead, and we’re not—we only went out once before we had to close the lid on the tomb.”

“It’s better that he’s not dead. The Underworld won’t let the dead go, but the living who stumble in—there’s no claim on them.”

She places a hand on the desk to steady herself as the floor seems to tilt beneath her feet. If it weren’t possible, he wouldn’t suggest it, but Orpheus and Eurydice are just characters in a story from long, long ago. This is different. The Underworld is frightening and full of evil, and she is no mythical hero.

“We can do this,” Ryan tells her, grasping her arm as she takes a shaky breath. “I’ll go alone if you don’t want to—”

“No, of course I do. I just—” Biting her lip, she shakes her head. “Orpheus failed.”

Her brother gives a smile that’s equal parts smug and sympathetic. “Orpheus didn’t have me to help him.”

And Carter is no Eurydice. He won’t wait for someone to come save him, not when he’s spent the better part of a year fighting the monsters that are probably trying to rip him apart even now. Whether or not he thinks he stands a chance, whether or not he believes there’s a way out, Dana is willing to bet he won’t just give up. He never has. A change of scenery won’t change his heart.

Meeting Ryan’s eyes, Dana nods. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”


	2. Battle Scar

The bookcase in their father’s office is full of volumes on mythology, from scholarly interpretations to modern retellings. There are a few about Greek myths of the Underworld, but being that their journey will keep them local, only taking them beneath Mariner Bay, Dana doesn’t much see the point in skimming them.

Besides, they should get going already, and she tells Ryan as much as he flips through the pages of a paperback whose spine is worn and whose pages sport highlights here and there.

“Not yet,” he says, shaking his head. “We can’t let anyone see us, or they’ll want in on this.”

He doesn’t have to explain how having five of them go on this quest would be a disaster. Too many differing opinions, too many ways everything could go wrong—and as much as she’d like the extra moral support, her brother’s will suffice. In the madness that has been the past twenty-four hours, she hasn’t allowed herself to bask in the fact that he’s home again, safe and sound. When he’d been away in the desert, part of her had wanted to go with him, but she’d known she would do more good staying in Mariner Bay.

Now that the city is safe, she’s free to go with him wherever she wants; and what better guide could she have on a journey to the Underworld than someone who’d grown up in it?

They head out of the library and have a late lunch with Joel, who is much more talented in the kitchen than she’d ever have thought to give him credit for.

There’s not much to work with in the house, even though her father bought a few things the night before, when it had been unclear how long everyone would be staying, but he’s made it work. He’s sautéed mushrooms and peppers with garlic and set out tomatoes and lettuce and sliced bread on the table. Even without much of an appetite, Dana’s mouth waters at the sight.

Dana and Ryan clean up when they’re all finished eating, putting the leftovers in containers for the others to have if they’re hungry when they come back from wherever they’ve gone. Joel, meanwhile, spends all of five minutes fiddling with the radio in the living room before he walks back over to them.

“I’m gonna go fly,” he tells them. “Gotta run checks on my plane anyway.”

Dana glances at him as she places a dish on the rack to dry. The anger from this morning is still in his brown eyes, but it’s more subdued, overshadowed by the exhaustion of remaining a functional human being as the world carries on without them.

“Sure,” she tells him. “Thank you for cooking.”

“Thanks for doing the dishes.” Sighing, Joel nods once at them and heads out.

The door shuts behind him with a loud thud that echoes through the house and makes Dana’s ears ring.

“Give it a little while,” Ryan says, as if he can read her thoughts, as he shuts off the tap and grabs a towel to dry off his hands on. “Take a nap, if you want. We need to be at the top of our game for this.”

It’s probably smart to digest for a while, so she goes to the living room. She sits where Joel had, reaching for the radio he’s left on too low to hear. It’s on a country station, predictably, so she turns the dial, stopping several stations down when she hears the host say the name _Carter Grayson_.

_“The students of Mariner Bay Community College invite the community to gather at sunset this evening for a candlelight vigil at the edges of the disaster zone, where there are already flowers and candles and thank-you cards in honor of the fallen Ranger. It’s—beautiful, actually. I stopped by on my way to the studio. It’s touching. We will always remember—”_

Dana shuts off the radio, breathing through the sting of tears.

Ryan walks up to her, stopping by the side table on which the radio stands.

“Did you hear that?” she asks him.

“Yeah.”

“I can’t take this anymore, Ryan. We have to go _now_.”

She expects him to protest, but all he does is hold out his hand to her and nod.

 

* * *

 

Dana drives, and Ryan plays navigator, his directions succinct and precise. Leaving in the Rescue Rover sort of defeats the purpose of their absence going unnoticed, but it’s faster than taking a bus, and the others would figure out that they’d left anyway. The trick was parking somewhere innocuous. That would buy them all the time they needed to head to the cave that served as an entry point to the Underworld.

They leave the car at a bowling alley parking lot and walk to the edge of the city, to the site of the accident that had separated their family all those years ago. He leads her down a narrow path along the edge of the cliff, across the stony scar that had once been a deep gorge full of lava, and into the cave, where Ryan grabs a torch from inside the cave’s mouth and lights it in a bowl of flames a few feet farther in and whose source she cannot see.

Dana recognizes parts of it from when they’d had to battle their way out of the Shadow Realm, though, then, they’d made it in and out by way of magic.

As the path begins to slope deep into the Earth, she holds her brother’s hand and follows directly in his footsteps, wishing there were footprints so she could be even more precise when the corridor widens and a chasm looms off to their side. One misstep could see them both gone forever, and then who would even think to go and save Carter?

The air grows cooler the deeper they go, and the rocks become damp. In the silence, she can hear the trickling of an underground stream, though she can’t tell what direction it’s coming from. As soon as they leave this chamber, they find themselves in another, vaster one, and the sound of dripping joins the soft babbling of the running water.

It’s not until they’ve sidled along a wall to cross a thin stretch of the path that she realizes that Ryan’s torch shouldn’t illuminate as much of their path as it does.

“Is there another light source here?” she asks, squeezing his hand.

Stopping, he looks over his shoulder at her. “This far in, yeah. It feeds off the torchlight.”

“That isn’t a normal torch, is it?”

He shakes his head and starts moving again, tugging her along.

Only a few minutes later, the walls give way to a new chamber, where the path extends from one end of it to the other, as far as either of them can see. There’s a hole in the wall to put a torch in, so Ryan sets his there and turns to Dana as the enormous cavern is filled with a cold, dim glow.

“This is as far as I’ve ever come, beyond the Skull Cavern,” he says. “I’ve only ever heard stories about the rest. They should be enough to get us through.”

“’Should’?”

He shrugs. “I’m being realistic. I know we _can_ do it—”

“And we _will_ ,” she finishes. There’s no room for failure.

“Right.” He gives her a nod and starts across the chamber.

At the opposite end is a tall figure that looks like it’s made of stone. The closer they get, the more details come into view, and soon Dana sees it’s a being with a pair of feathered wings pointed down toward the ground and a snarling, reptilian face.

When they are only a few feet away, the figure lets out a hissing breath.

“Who,” begins the being, “ _who are you two_ , who approach this gate and its keeper?”

Their voice is soft, a whisper that seems to brush over Dana’s skin like a breeze.

“Humans on a quest,” Ryan answers.

“ _Humans_ ,” the gatekeeper hisses, opening their eyes, which glow bronze against the blue-grey stone that constitutes their skin. “This is not the door through which _humans_ enter.” They narrow their eyes to slits and draw a slow breath. “ _Living_ humans?” They laugh, a gust blowing through cracks in a window. “Turn away. You cannot have your dead back.”

“We’re not here for a dead person,” says Dana.

The gatekeeper laughs. “The secret wisdom of the Underworld is forbidden to the living.”

Shaking her head, Dana tells them, “We’re not here for that, either.”

“Then what— _wait_.”

The gatekeeper moves, too fluid to be stone, stretching out their wings and leaning forward to get a better look at the two of them.

“Oh,” the gatekeeper grunts, and even though they have no pupils, they manage to convey that they are rolling their eyes. “More of _you_.”

Dana frowns, glancing at Ryan, whose gaze is hard and on the gatekeeper. “What do you mean?”

Huffing, the gatekeeper straightens and points at their wrists. “You with your touch of _Power_ , defying the laws of life and death—how _dare_ you? Haven’t enough of you come and gone already?” They huff again, shaking their head, their anger much more immediate than Dana would expect from a being that is presumably even more ancient than Queen Bansheera and her horde. “At least _you two_ are _alive_. What do you want? Bragging rights? Riches? Is it not enough that your _kind_ has defied death itself?”

Sharing a glance with Ryan, Dana asks, “Are you talking about Kendrix Morgan?”

“ _Her_ ,” the gatekeeper grumbles, “and the one who inherited the sword of the warrior, and that girl with the wigs—and that boy who was sleeping in ice!” Growling, the gatekeeper raises their hands in the air, then lets them smack down against their sides.

Dana expects the sound of stone on stone, but it is softer, like stone on sand. She shares another glance with her brother before she looks at the gatekeeper.

“All of them have been returned to the world above, your _world of the living_ ,” they say, and they step closer to stand right in front of them. They’re a full head taller than Ryan, but with their glowing eyes and gleaming teeth, they seem larger and far deadlier than this almost comical outburst lets on. “Have the tales of what lies beyond the gates finally tempted you to try and obtain it, Ryan Mitchell?”

“How do—” Dana begins, but Ryan squeezes her hand so tight that she winces, biting her lip to keep from crying out.

He relents once she’s silent, and tells the gatekeeper, “No. You can keep what’s yours. We only want one of ours.”

The gatekeeper lets out a low, hissing laugh. They begin to walk a circle around them, slow and sinister, their grin flashing like the edge of a knife. “Ryan Mitchell, the boy the demons raised as their own. It’s fitting, that you’ve come to me. I should have expected this, really. After all, your father journeyed here as well. _For you_.”

As the gatekeeper passes behind them, Ryan draws in a sharp breath. “You’re lying.”

“ _Oh-ho-ho!_ Am I? You know the laws of the Underworld. You know I am no demon.”

“But you deal in trickery anyway,” Ryan tells them. “My father never came here for me.”

Stopping at Dana’s side, the gatekeeper leans forward to look past her and up at Ryan, more reptilian now than ever. “How do you think he got the _scar_ on his face?”

“No,” breathes Dana. “That’s not possible. He never left me—”

“ _Aha!_ ” cries the gatekeeper in their low, breezy voice. “And _you_ are the beloved daughter! Yes, I see it now. You have that same, obstinate look to you. Do you know that they told your brother that your father loved you better than him on the night he made the deal?”

“Yes,” she answers. “And _he_ knows that’s a lie.”

“Oh, but he _didn’t_ , for so very _long_ ,” says the gatekeeper, straightening and starting another slow lap around them. “ _We_ knew that it was a lie, because your father came _here_ , you see, _looking for you_.” They say this right in his ear, but the words seem to echo all around them in the vast chamber. “William Mitchell’s son. Why, if anything, he loved you all the _more_ because you were lost to him.”

Ryan’s hold on Dana’s hand tightens, each finger in turn, almost in a rhythm.

“What’s your point, gatekeeper?” he asks.

“ _I_ believe,” whispers the gatekeeper, “that the truth is that your father was _consumed_ by all that this realm _holds_. Your mother is dead, isn’t she? Two of the people he loved _most_ —and they were _here_ , they were _out of reach_. He _fought_ for you.” They lean between the two of them, over their joined hands, and says to Dana, “And he left _you_ behind, in the land that sees the sun, for _this boy_ whom he had _willingly agreed to give away_.”

Straightening, they move swiftly around Dana, completing the circle, and stand right in front of her, their face in hers, their bronze eyes unavoidable. “Did he teach you about us? Did he tell you the laws of the Underworld? Or did he train you like the demons trained your _brother_?”

“ _No_ ,” she says, leaning back but not ceding ground. If she does, it’ll be like the gatekeeper has won, and she refuses to let them know that they’ve upset her. “He protected me in the best way he knew how. I’m not mad at him for how he handled it. I’m _proud_ of him. I don’t think anyone could’ve done it better, because I never felt unloved, and I know he always loved Ryan, too.”

Her brother shifts a little next to her, straightening his shoulders, as if her voice has lent him strength.

“And now he sends you here for—whom?” The gatekeeper does not move away from her, but turns their head to Ryan. “Who is it that you seek? Who is this living being who has come to be in the realm of shades and monsters and beings of shadow?”

Ryan stares the gatekeeper down. “One who would’ve died if that was what it took to save the world.”

The gatekeeper narrows their eyes and hisses, and the sound turns into a growl. They straighten and tip their head back, and the growl becomes a roar that makes the whole chamber quake.

The earth trembles beneath their feet, but Dana and Ryan do not budge except to lean towards one another, each lifting their free arm to shield their face from any debris that may come tumbling down.

But none does, and the shaking stops.

Before them, the gatekeeper breathes heavily, their frown smoothing out as their anger passes. “I can’t deny you,” they say, and now their voice is like a calm breeze. “You are unmoved by _what I have said_ to you, and the Underworld has no firm claim upon the living. And as much as I _loathe those who come and go from here so freely_ , I am bound by the very laws that give me existence, and I _must_ let you go.”

They sigh, their shoulders drooping, and step aside to gesture to the wall behind them. Where before there had been only smooth stone, now there is an archway with a torch on either side and a shimmering curtain for a door.

“Go,” says the gatekeeper, giving the impression of rolling their eyes, more petulant child than ancient guardian. “Go through the first gate. I’m tired of looking at you.”

Dana and Ryan share a glance. She nods at him and starts to take her first step forward.

Then Ryan asks, stopping Dana short, “How did our father get his scar?”

Giving a huff of a sigh—the wind through fallen leaves in autumn—the gatekeeper answers, “He fought me. He almost won, too. Surprising, for one whose eyes were so full of troubles, and whose body had been weakened by grief.”

Dana smiles. “That’s him, all right.”

“This gate doesn’t even lead to where you were being kept,” says the gatekeeper. “But then, he must have sought the sheer strength to face the horde that kept you below the Earth.” Shrugging, they gesture to the gate again. “Go. You’re disturbing me, you with your glint of Power. The one you seek is one of you, you said? Another child with hope in their eyes and a fire in their heart?”

“Yes,” answers Dana, her small grin dissolving into a frown. “He chose—he told us to seal him in the Shadow Realm with—”

“The _Shadow Realm_?” gasps the gatekeeper.

“What? What’s—”

“Oh-ho- _ho!_ Oh!” exclaims the gatekeeper. “ _Oh_ , you’d best thank every _star in your sky_ and the very _Power that sustains you_ that you are not only _living humans_ , but _wielders of Power_. Each of you will need every atom in your body to get _there_ and _back_ with your life! _Including_ your friend! _Especially_ your friend.”

Dana opens her mouth to ask another question, but the gatekeeper starts laughing their rustling laugh again, doubling over as the fit overpowers them.

“Come on, Dana,” says Ryan, his voice soft but somehow audible over the echoing cackles of the gatekeeper. “Let’s keep going. There’s nothing more for us to do here.”

Glancing at the gatekeeper one last time, Dana follows as Ryan leads them to the archway, where the curtain ripples like water.

“Are you ready?” he asks, turning to look at her.

Giving his hand a light squeeze, she nods.

Together, they part the curtain and walk through the gate.


	3. Inanna and Illusions

“Is everything about the Underworld so—” Dana waves her free hand around, searching for words in the cool, damp air.

“Weird?” Ryan finishes for her.

“Yeah.”

“Yes and no.” When she frowns at him, he adds, “Nothing’s ever easy here. I only lived in an upper level, one that had nothing to do with the souls of the dead or anything like that, but even there, you lived by the rules or you paid the price.”

“And you know those rules,” she says, “and that’s why you wanted to do this. That’s how you knew we even _could_.”

He nods.

“Will the other gates have guardians, too?”

“Yes. I’m sure of that,” he answers. “And they won’t be as nice as that first one was.”

“You thought they were _nice_?”

He shrugs. “They didn’t make us fight, even though they made Dad fight.”

“Do you think that’s true?” She looks ahead on the path, where the same, strange light from before is just bright enough for them to see by. “Do you think he came here for you?”

“You’re the one who grew up with him. Did he ever take a vacation and come back with a cut on his face?”

Shrugging, she lets him go ahead of her as the path grows only wide enough for one of them at a time, an abyss at either side of it. “I don’t remember.”

“It’s better that way,” states Ryan, giving her hand a squeeze. “How do you tell a little kid that you went to fight monsters and lost?”

“You’re right.” When one wall rises up out of the darkness, she places her hand on it as the path narrows a few inches. “Sometimes he used to go away for a few days. I always thought it was just for Lightspeed, but he could’ve come here one of those times, for all I know.”

“I want to ask him when we get back.” He leaps down a small step, turning to offer her his other hand. As he helps her down, he adds, “Good job, by the way, with how you answered the gatekeeper back there.”

She straightens from her little jump, releasing the hand she’s been grasping since they started their journey, and holding on now to his other hand. “It was the truth.”

“That’s why it frustrated them so much. You really believed what you said, so they couldn’t shake your resolve.” Starting down the path again, he flashes her a small grin. “That’s also why I asked you to come with me.”

Smiling, she shrugs, even though he’s looking forward again as he leads the way.

The sound of trickling water comes back, a little more clearly now, and the farther they go, the bluer the stone walls look. The air gets cooler, too. When they’d started, she’d pictured the Shadow Realm and how it glows red-hot. She’s not sure if this is better or worse, but she’s glad they’re wearing their jackets.

Soon they reach another chamber, this one smaller than the last, but no less ominous. Towards the far end of the room, where the next gate should be, the blueish stone walls begin to deepen in color, like ocean water the deeper one goes.

Again, a figure stands between them and the far wall, this one taller than the first, the smooth scales on their skin reflecting the dim light enough that they seem to glow. As they approach, their shape becomes more apparent, curvy like a human female, with a face that’s equal parts feminine and snake-like, and a long, serpentine tail.

They open their eyes as Dana and Ryan stop before them, their pupils slits amid pale gold irises.

“Ah, Inanna returns with her scepter and a servant,” says the gatekeeper.  
  
“Who’s Inanna?” asks Dana.  
  
“Pardon me, human girl.” The gatekeeper dips their head, looking up through their long lashes. “Your presence here brought back a memory that we of the Underworld share. You know it, too, do you not, boy-who-is-and-is-not-from-among-us?”  
  
Dana watches Ryan, who grimaces at the form of address but nods anyway.  
  
“You have acquired a star,” the gatekeeper continues, “one much greater than the one possessed by the horde you lived among.”  
  
“Yes,” answers Ryan, his fingers shifting between Dana's. “And we put it to better use.”  
  
She guesses this ‘star’ is a morpher, but she doesn’t interrupt and ask. There will be time when they’re back home to ask about the world beneath the ground, about the way its denizens use language to try and trick intruders and perhaps even each other.  
  
“Ours is not to judge or interfere with how stars are used, no matter their source.” Flicking their serpentine tail, the gatekeeper walks towards the two of them, lifting a shimmering, scaly hand to gesture to the cavern’s walls. “Ryan Mitchell, and you-who-are-not-Inanna, why do you venture so far from your world into this place that is not yet for you? Living humans fear their death, but you have walked here to embrace it.”  
  
“No,” says Dana, shaking her head. “We’re here to get back our friend, who fell into the Shadow Realm in order to save the world.”  
  
“None of you dozens of children fears death,” remarks the gatekeeper. “I believe this Power makes you blind to its finality.”  
  
“It creates an exception,” Ryan corrects. “A loophole.”  
  
“I abhor loopholes.”  
  
“Only when they don’t benefit you.”  
  
“Truly you grew up among demon warriors.” The gatekeeper's whole body remains relaxed, but their voice vibrates with rage.  
  
Dana grips her brother’s hand tighter, but he doesn't budge or look away from the snake-shaped guardian before them.  
  
“You have journeyed long,” they say. “Do you hunger? Thirst?”  
  
“No,” Ryan answers at once, his tone firm.  
  
“Do you wish to stop and rest?”  
  
“No,” he repeats.  
  
“Would you like to see your mother?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“What?”  
  
Dana’s question finally draws Ryan’s gaze away from the gatekeeper, but she doesn’t turn to meet it. Instead, she locks eyes with the gatekeeper, whose form shifts before her, scaly skin rippling as they grow wider and shrink to match Dana’s height.  
  
“You can’t—no,” says Dana, her hands shaking. “She can’t be _here_ , she’s—“  
  
“In the sky?” the gatekeeper supplies. “Child of Power, the Underworld is too vast for you to comprehend, but I assure you, I _can_ take you to her.”  
  
“Dana, _no,_ ” hisses Ryan, squeezing her hand.  
  
“Why not?” says the gatekeeper, their voice making Dana’s ears ring, drowning out Ryan’s feeble whisper. “You have come so far already. Why not rest and speak with her?”  
  
A rush of air blows through the room, strong and dry and dusty. Dana lifts her arm to cover her eyes, but not before it registers that bright light has filled the cavern.  
  
When the wind dies down and she lowers her arm, the stone is gone, replaced by endless blue sky for walls and ceiling, and soft grass for a floor. She is alone, but she dares not move to look for Ryan, lest he be seeking her too and they end up going in circles for hours on end.  
  
A laugh carries on a gentle breeze, musical and comforting like wind chimes. She’s heard it before, but not in person, not that she remembers.  
  
On the edge of her vision, there is movement, and she whips her head towards it, only to see nothing but never-ending sky.  
  
“Ryan?” She turns her head again, her arms out as if to steady herself. Without her brother, she is lost here, wherever this may be. “Ryan!”  
  
Her voice doesn’t echo. This isn't the cavern, then. It’s not some illusion. It’s beautiful, with the faint scent of flowers in the air, and a cloudless sky.  
  
“Dana.”  
  
She turns around to face the voice, and her eyes go wide. “Mom.”  
  
She’s only seen her mother's face in pictures, but she recognizes her at once, the laugh lines at the corners of her eyes, the warmth in her gaze, her pretty smile. Frozen to the spot, Dana stares at her as she walks right up to her, the skirt of her long dress billowing with every step.  
  
“Yes,” she answers, placing her hands on Dana’s shoulders. “It’s me. Oh—oh, honey, don’t cry. It’s okay.”  
  
But Dana can’t stop the tears falling from her eyes, and she can’t but latch onto her when her mother hugs her.  
  
“You’re in Heaven,” Dana murmurs into her shoulder, smiling. “I knew it. I _knew_ you couldn’t be anywhere else.”  
  
“Of course not.” Her mother cradles her close, stroking her hair. “I’ve been looking after you and Ryan from here every day. I’m only sorry you never knew that." She pulls away, brushing the tears off Dana’s cheeks. “Everything’s okay now, sweetie”  
  
Dana believes that with all her heart, and then almost right away, she remembers how she got here, and why she started this journey at all. “No, it’s not. My friend is in the Shadow Realm. Ryan and I have to save him.”  
  
“Oh, gosh—” Her mother shuts her eyes and shakes her head. “That place is so dangerous.”  
  
“I know,” Dana agrees, “but if he was willing to go there for the entire world, then I’m willing to go there to find him.”  
  
Her mother smiles and places her hands on Dana's shoulders again. “My brave girl.”  
  
Dana shakes her head, her voice small as she answers, “I don’t think of it as brave. I _have_ to do this. I at least have to _try_.”  
  
Sighing, her mother gives a weary smile. “And who’s watching out for _you_ in all of this?”  
  
“Ryan.” The moment Dana says this, she frowns. “And you, right? You said you’ve been looking after us both this whole time.”  
  
“Yes, I have been.”  
  
“So—” Dana’s frown goes more pronounced. “So how could you not know he’s been with me in the Underworld this whole time? How come both of us aren’t here with you right now?”  
  
“Dana—” she begins, but she avoids Dana’s gaze, and her grip on Dana’s shoulders tightens.  
  
“Stop it.” Dana pushes her away, blinking against fresh tears filling her eyes. “You’re not my mother.”  
  
Her pupils go from circles to slits when she meets Dana’s gaze again. “Dana, I—”  
  
“I don't know who you are, but just get away from me. Get away!”  
  
The wind picks up as Dana shoves the woman back. She shuts her eyes and crouches low, covering her face with her arms as the unending gust whips up dirt she hadn’t even known was there. In the artificial darkness of her defensive pose, she wills herself to unhear that voice and unsee that face, hearing only the roaring wind in her ears and seeing only the fireworks behind her eyelids as she keeps her eyes shut tight.  
  
Slowly, gradually, the gust dies down, and she hears a much more welcome voice, and feels strong hands gripping her shoulders and shaking her gently.  
  
“ _Dana_ ,” the voice repeats. “Dana!”"  
  
She holds her breath, opens her eyes, and lifts her head.  
  
It’s Ryan crouching here with her, and the snake-like gatekeeper standing a few feet behind him, and the source of her trembling is every shuddering breath she takes.  
  
“Dana,” says Ryan, pulling her into a tight hug. “You’re okay now. You’re okay.”  
  
Looking over his shoulder, Dana watches the gatekeeper curl their fingers into fists as they watch.  
  
“You’re horrible,” Dana tells them, breathing deep of the cold, damp air as scalding tears run down her cheeks. “You’re horrible!”  
  
The gatekeeper stands to their full height—almost twice Dana’s own—and glares at her. “Do not question our laws, living human, brave intruder. In return, we do not question the strength of your will.”  
  
“It’s okay, sis,” Ryan tells her. “It’s over. We’re done here. We can go through the gate.”  
  
She squeezes her eyes shut and nods, and he lets her go, taking her hands and pulling her up as he stands. He leads her past the gatekeeper, who does not watch them go, and to the archway that appears in the rock wall.  
  
Her legs feel weak and shaky, but she grows stronger with every step, the warmth of her brother’s hand in hers pushing away the chill in the cavern, which only seems to grow.  
  
This time, they do not pause before the flowing curtain, nor do they even reach out to part it before going through, and they do not stop once they’re on the other side. They walk for a few minutes on a path that’s wider and dustier than the last, though the air is still humid and chilly, and the sound of the underground body of water grows louder, as if it gets bigger with every foot or so it flows below the earth.

When they’ve gone around a massive stone column, Ryan stops and turns to her. “Here, let’s sit for a while.”

She wants nothing more than to finish this quest as soon as possible, but as she still feels wobbly from the last gatekeeper’s trick, Dana nods and sinks onto the floor next to him.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Ryan asks, after a while of only the stream they can’t see for noise.

Sniffling, Dana shrugs. “They—they pretended to be our mother. And it felt so _real_. They sounded just like her.” Taking a shuddering breath, she finishes, “It was _awful_.”

He nods. “Sounds about right for them.”

“I don’t know what they wanted from me, but—” She shrugs again and looks at him. “Did they do anything to you?”

Nodding again, he sighs. “They’re kind of required to.”

“You don’t have to tell me what they did if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s fine.” Rolling his shoulders, he sits up straight and stares out at the other end of the path, where there is no wall to lean against, only an abyss to fall into. “They told me you’d fallen for their trick, and then they showed me where you’d wound up—where you _could’ve_ would up. Like Inanna, hung on a hook to rot, because you’d trespassed here.”

In the space of a breath, she reaches out and grabs his hand. “I’m sorry I almost got us killed, or worse.”

“It’s over,” he tells her, shaking his head. “That’s all that matters.” He shoots her a smile, but his eyes still seem haunted.

Drawing back her hand, she cups her elbows and leans back against the stone wall behind them. “She’s in Heaven, right? Mom, I mean.”

Meeting her gaze, he shrugs and says, “Wherever she is, whatever it’s called, I’m willing to bet my life that she’s at peace.”

She smiles, blinking against the threat of more tears. “Me, too.” Sniffling again, she sighs sharply and leans back against the stone wall behind them. “How many gates are there, anyway?”

“Three,” he answers.

“ _Ugh_.”

“We have it good. Inanna had to go through seven.”

“ _Seven_?” She shakes her head, chuckling without an ounce of mirth. “Who’s Inanna, by the way?”

“Sumerian goddess of love and war.”

“So the gatekeeper thought I was a _goddess_.” This time, her laugh is more sincere. “Did Inanna go to the Underworld with her brother on a search for their friend, too?”

“I don’t know. I never understood her reason for going there at all, but the myth says she went through seven gates, giving up a piece of clothing at every one, until she got to the end.”

Sitting up straight, she frowns at him and asks, “I’m not going to have to—”

“No,” he says, his gaze turning hard, “and I’d probably hurt anyone who even _tried_ to make you.”

“Good.” She uncrosses her arms and leans against the wall again. “Just let me at them, too.”

“Cross my heart.”

Smiling, she shifts so she is leaning on him now, resting her head on his shoulder. The shakiness from before is gone, replaced by the steady comfort of knowing they’re together now, as they should have been their whole lives.

“Did she make it?” she asks after a while. “Inanna, I mean. Did she make it out okay?”

“Ultimately, yes,” he says, “but there’s more to it than that. Dad has a book about the myth in his library. We can ask him when we get back. Right now, we should keep going, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“I am.”

This time, she’s the one who stands first and holds out her hand, pulling him to his feet.

Hand in hand, side by side, they start down the path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "star" the gatekeeper refers to -- in Sumerian, there's a symbol that looks kind of like an asterisk. It's called "dingir," it's soundless, and it's used before the names of gods or other beings with astral light (more or less anything not human). The rangers are heroes in stories that can be thought of as Legendary Lite, maybe. So, morphers act kind of to lend them power (Power with a capital P), thus, a 'star'.
> 
> Also, in Operation Overdrive, the rangers interact with Thor and Loki. We've had Jewish rangers in the past. So, I thought a polytheistic, harmonious, sort of multiverse approach was appropriate.


	4. The River

The third gate lies in plain view across the river whose waters they’ve heard for so long without seeing. It flows gently, and it looks clear and refreshing, but Dana dreads crossing it. Her hold on Ryan’s hand tightens without a thought on her part, and they share a knowing glance as they approach the gatekeeper, who stands on the other side of the river.

At first, the figure is silent, statuesque like the first, except they are dark as the night sky from head to toe, save for their lips, which are silver, like stars. They look mostly human, save for a leonine slant to their head, and a lion’s ears peering out from beneath their black hair.

Dana glances at her brother, at the river, and at her brother again. “We can jump over it. We might not land on our feet, but we can make it if we have a running start. Right?”

“Maybe,” he concedes, “but I don’t think that’s what we’re supposed to do.”

Looking at the river again, Dana bites her lip. Isn’t there a myth that mentions a river in the Underworld? It’s a Greek myth, she thinks. “Do we have to pay a toll to cross?”

“Yes,” answers the gatekeeper, their voice like small bells. They open their eyes, which shine in the same color as their lips. “Nothing here is gained for free.”

“What do you want?” Ryan asks them.

“You may either pay the toll, or attempt to wade across.” The gatekeeper extends an arm to the water, their hand both human and paw-like. “If you’re able to get across the latter way, then you’ll have earned the right to pass the third gate. The effort will count as your toll.”

The toll could be anything, Dana thinks, but they can see the river, see its waters, see the trench it has dug in the ground in all its countless years of flowing. And yet, if it’s been here for so long, shouldn’t that ditch be far, far deeper? Shouldn’t the river lie at the bottom of a gorge?

She looks up at her brother, whose gaze is fixed on the gatekeeper.

“What’s the toll?” he asks.

“Oh, it’s very simple,” they answer, but in their pause there, Dana remembers the trial at the prior gate, and she knows in her very core that this one’s task will be anything but simple.

“Tell me why you’re here,” they continue, nodding, “and I’ll let you go.”

Dana frowns at them. “That’s it?”

“Yes, child,” they answer, smiling. “That’s it.”

“No,” says Ryan. “That’s _not_ it. Come on.” He looks at Dana and nods. “We’re wading across.”

“But—” she begins, glancing at the river, at the gatekeeper, as Ryan tugs her along with him towards the water. She looks down at it once they’re close, wondering how shallow it is, and if it’s worth it to get their clothes wet when they don’t have anything to change into when they’re across.

“Why don’t we just tell them?” she whispers to him as he steps into the flowing water. “We’ve already told the others.”

“Because that’s not what they really want,” he answers. “I’m sure of it. Come on.”

Biting her lips, she follows him in.

The water is cool, not freezing, like she’d expect from a river that hasn’t seen sunlight. The current is gentle, just right for relaxing on a hot day above the ground. Dana almost starts to enjoy it, even as the water level rises to her knees and drenches her boots and socks the farther she goes, but Ryan stops and pushes back on their joined hands.

“Go back,” he tells her.

“What is it?” she asks, but one glance towards the gatekeeper and one back where they started answers her question. They are the same distance away from the other side as when they’d begun crossing, even though the bank behind them is several yards back.

The realization sinks along with her heart as Ryan heads back. She lets him lead the way, her soaked footwear weighing her feet down. Soon, they’re on the bank again, no closer to their goal than when they’d walked into the cavern.

It’s not until she turns to face the gatekeeper that she notices she’s completely dry. A look at Ryan tells her he’s realized this, too, and that he’s angry. He’s frowning, his eyes narrowed, and his fingers are pressing on her hand in a rhythm she doesn’t recognize.

“Well,” the gatekeeper says, their voice ringing softly in Dana’s ears, “I suppose this means you’ve chosen the other option.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call this a _choice_ ,” Ryan retorts.

“Semantics, child.” The gatekeeper bows their head at the two of them in a brief nod. “Now, tell me why you’re here, and I’ll let you pass.”

“Because our friend fell into the Shadow Realm,” answers Dana. “We want to bring him back.”

“The dead can’t return to the land of the living,” says the gatekeeper.

“He isn’t dead,” Dana insists. “We wouldn’t be here if he were.”

“That’s so touching,” the gatekeeper remarks. “However, I’m afraid that answer isn’t good enough.”

“I knew it,” hisses Ryan, as Dana lowers her gaze. “What more do you want?”

“I’m truly surprised you’re asking that question, Ryan Mitchell. One would imagine that you, one who knows our laws, is familiar with what I’m seeking.”

“What are they talking about?” Dana whispers, turning to him. “What other reason could we possibly have for being here?” Her heart starts to beat faster in her chest, and she feels the pressure of tears in her eyes. They’ve come too far to be held back now.

“Your brother hasn’t told you about the Underworld, has he?” the gatekeeper asks her. “Understandable, but lamentable. That knowledge would serve you well now.”

“There was never any time for that,” she says under her breath, looking at him and shaking her head. “I’m not mad at you. They’re not going to make me fight with you.”

Giving her hand a quick squeeze, he nods.

“Here, I’ll enlighten you,” says the gatekeeper. “I want your reason, your _personal_ reason for coming here.”

“But saving our friend _is_ my personal reason,” Dana states.

Sighing, the gatekeeper shakes their head. “Oh, child, if you don’t understand, then you can’t cross the river. Go back the way you came.” They gesture towards the entrance to the cavern. “It should be a much shorter journey in reverse.”

“What? No! Ryan—” She looks from her brother to the gatekeeper. “We’re not going back without him.”

“Really? I see no other option for you. You couldn’t wade across, and you can’t tell me why you’re here.” The gatekeeper shakes their head. “What else can you do, children?”

“We’re not _children_ ,” Dana protests, and turns to Ryan. “You said something before about loopholes, right?”

He nods.

“Then—” Glancing at the water, she narrows her eyes. “Maybe I was right. Maybe we _can_ jump across.”

“You saw what happened when we tried wading.” He shakes his head. “The river expanded. We’ll just fall in.”

“So? If we fall in, we’ll come back here and try again. It’s not like we we’ll have to dry off when we’re out of the water.”

“I don’t know,” murmurs Ryan.

“Loopholes,” Dana insists. “It’s worth a try, right?” Anything is better than standing here and trying to solve what seems more and more like an ancient riddle.

Taking a slow, deep breath, he nods. “Running start.”

They walk back towards the cavern’s entrance and turn, facing the river. Provided the river doesn’t widen, it should be possible to complete this jump. The gatekeeper stands, impassive, on the other side, which only makes Dana believe even more in her idea.

With a shared glance, they nod at each other, let go of one another’s hand, and run for the river.

Dana is not a long jumper and was never a star at track and field, but almost a lifetime of training have made her strong. She speeds up as she nears the water, unafraid of injury, and pushes hard against the ground as she leaps into the air. The other bank comes closer, and she allows herself to smile and feel her victory.

The moment she does, she slams into something in the air and falls, but not into the water. She’s floating above it, held up by magic, she thinks.

Glancing at Ryan, she sees he’s in the same predicament, only he’s getting back on his feet and pounding at the air in front of him, his mouth moving in a protest she cannot hear.

Frowning, she stands, steadying herself on the smooth, transparent force keeping her suspended above the river. She looks around and sees her reflection, faded and dull in the dim light. It’s like glass, or very clear plastic, and as she runs her hands along it, she notices that it curves like a sphere.

“What is this?” she demands, pushing on the inside of the invisible barrier.

“I told you,” says the gatekeeper, their voice as calm and as clear as little bells in a breeze. “You have two options: wade, or tell me why you’re here. That doesn’t sound like what you tried to do just now, does it?”

“Our morphers create a loophole,” she states.

“Not this time, child of the Power.”

“Fine, then put us back on the bank, and we’ll tell you why we’re here.”

“No,” says the gatekeeper. “This is much better. He won’t overhear your reason like this, nor you his.”

“But he _knows_ why we’re here.”

“Child, if you really believed that, both of you would’ve already told me your true, personal reason. Now, answer me this simple question: Why are you here?”

“To save our friend.”

The gatekeeper chuckles. Through the glass, Dana sees them shake their head. “Tell me the truth.”

“That _is_ the truth.”

Groaning, Dana shoves the sphere hard, but it doesn’t budge. She huffs, taking a step back, her boots splashing in—in water that hadn’t been there only a moment ago.

“What’s—” She looks down to find her feet are in a puddle. Lifting one boot, she tries to gauge how much water this is and how she could’ve missed it before.

Then she sees the water creep up the edge of the sphere.

Her breath turns shallow and quick, and she beats the sphere with her fists. “What is this?”

“Incentive,” answers the gatekeeper. “Why are you here, living human?”

“To save my friend,” she replies. “This isn’t funny. Put us back down!”

“That’s your _explanation_ ,” says the gatekeeper. “That’s how you justify your reason to the world. I want you to tell me why you’re really here.”

“Because he’s not dead, so he shouldn’t be here.”

“No, that’s not it, either.”

The water starts to rise faster, like a river is pouring into it. Dana looks at Ryan again, and sees that his bubble is filling at the same rate.

“Stop,” she says. “Let me brother go, and I’ll—I’ll tell you whatever you want. Just _please_ —”

“Ignore him,” the gatekeeper tells her. “He can answer for himself.”

“No!” The water surges up to her waist. “ _Please_ let him go!”

“It doesn’t matter how nicely you ask me. All you’re doing is wasting time.”

“I told you why we’re here!”

“I don’t care why _you both_ are here. I want to know why _you_ are here.”

As the water rises up her torso, Dana shakes her head. “To save my teammate. My leader.”

“Tell me the _truth_.”

The water keeps rising, lifting Dana off her feet. She hits the top of the sphere now, and kicks the sides of it. If she can just make it crack one tiny bit—

“ _Tell me the truth._ ”

“He doesn’t deserve to be in the Shadow Realm!”

“ _Tell me the truth._ ”

She flattens her hands against the glass as she floats. “I miss him! I should’ve tried harder to save him when I had the chance!”

“ _Tell me the truth!_ ”

With her cheek against the glass, she takes one last breath before the water fills the sphere completely.

Submerged, she can’t see through the glass to the cavern or the river or her brother. Only the gatekeeper’s silver eyes shine through the water, whose rushing fills Dana’s ears even though there’s nowhere it’s coming from and nowhere for it to go.

She punches the glass, the force of her hits significantly reduced by the water.

“ _Tell me your truth, child!_ ”

How can she possibly answer underwater? Even if she knew what to say, she’ll drown if she tries, because she has enough air to form some kind of response, but she’ll need more immediately after, and she can’t get that here.

“ _Tell me your reason for coming here!_ ”

She’s going to die no matter what, and the last memories her father and the others will have of her will be of silence and grief, not the laughter she could bring them all with a pun, not the joy she brought the people whose lives she saved even unmorphed.

“ _Tell me your personal truth!_ ” says the gatekeeper.

 _If I answer you, I’ll drown_ , Dana thinks as her lungs begin to ache. She stops struggling and shuts her eyes. This should buy her another few seconds.

“ _You will drown in a river of your own making_ ,” says the gatekeeper. “ _Death will be your choice unless you tell me your truth. Now tell me!_ ”

Yes, the water of the river fills this sphere. She smiles. There’s a pun there, about a river, one of the first corny jokes she’d learned. She remembers her father’s voice, full of knowing laughter as he said to her, “You’re floating on _de-Nile_ , kiddo.”

The Nile. Denial.

A river of her own making. _Of course!_

“ _Yes, now tell me the truth!_ ”

_You can hear my thoughts—?_

“ _Yes—tell me!_ ”

As her lungs start to burn in earnest, Dana thinks hard. What is her truth? What is it that everyone knows but she can’t see, or she _can_ see but doesn’t want to say? Denial. She’s created a river of denial over coming here because—

“ _Tell me—_ ”

Breakfast. This morning. Scrambled eggs, everyone upset; everyone, including her, talking like Carter had died.

She opens her eyes as her body starts trying to force her to breathe.

_Ice cream. I’m here because—_

“ _Tell me the truth!_ ”

_I’m here because I want to have ice cream with him!_

The sphere disappears, and she falls on dry land, the water pouring on her in a short, violent torrent. On her hands and knees, she coughs and sputters, every inch of her soaked through. She shivers, more from the passing fear of death than from the temperature in the cavern, and over the sound of her coughing, she hears shattering glass and a thud.

She looks up at the source of the sound—her brother, lying still and face down only a few feet away.

“No,” she gasps, and she finds the strength to stumble quickly over to him. “Ryan? Ryan!” She turns him over so he’s on his back and puts her ear to his chest. When she hears his heartbeat, she sighs with relief.

Keeping a hand on his chest, she starts to learn toward his head to listen for breathing, but he starts coughing before she makes it halfway.

“ _Ryan_ ,” she cries, her hands behind his shoulders as she helps him sit up.

He doesn’t fight her, only follows as she guides him up, coughing the entire way.

As soon as his breathing starts to normalize, she throws her arms around him and says, “We did it. We made it.”

“Yeah.” Sighing, he hugs her back. “Just in time.”

“All I wanted was your selfish truth,” the gatekeeper tells them both, shaking their head. “Some degree of selfishness is good for you, but you deny yourselves your right to it. After all, it’s part of what brought you here, isn’t it? In any case, look. You’re on the other side of the river now. As soon as you’re ready, you may go.”

Dana laughs and tightens her hold on Ryan. “I’m ready _now_ ,” she says to him. “I’ve been ready since this whole journey started.”

Nodding, he takes another few seconds just to breathe. “Me, too,” he says as he pulls away, giving her a weak smile. “Let’s get going.”

The gatekeeper nods and gestures to the gate, where the same curtain as on the others shimmers as it hangs from the archway.

As they stand, Dana thinks about the reason she’d given the gatekeeper, the selfish truth she’d been afraid of facing, and she wonders what Ryan’s was. It doesn’t feel right to ask, and besides, if he was drowning in _denial_ , too, then she already knows it. All she has to do is figure it out.

Sparing the gatekeeper one last glance, Dana and Ryan go through the gate and onto the path that leads to the Shadow Realm.


	5. Guardian Demon

The entire time he’s falling, Carter keeps his eyes on the lid, as it slides over the tomb and seals the demons in the Shadow Realm. He’s dead for sure, might last a day or two if he’s lucky against the horde of monsters clamoring for blood and violence, but at least he’ll die knowing everyone else is safe. Even if he hadn’t joined Lightspeed all those months ago, dying on the job had always been a possibility. In some ways, this seems right. He’s at peace with his decision. Whatever happens, wherever he ultimately ends up, he has no regrets.  
  
Injury from this fall is unavoidable, but he might be able to prevent a concussion. He starts to turn, fighting against Queen Bansheera’s grip, her laughter ringing in his ears, deafening above the roar of the warriors below. Maybe she’ll break his fall, or maybe he can get a hit in by virtue of her reaching the ground first.  
  
He’s working on that idea when her hold on him slacks and another force pushes him sideways and upwards, as if it’s carrying him away. Queen Bansheera’s laugh turns into a long, angry scream that grows quieter as he is moved farther, and an altogether different, more sinister chuckle fills his ears.  
  
The energy, as yet not visible but certainly sentient, rushes through the air, away from the red-hot rocks and the army waiting to fight him, to a rocky, desolate valley where despair seems to dwell in every shadow.  
  
When the sounds from below the tomb have faded, Carter is released, close enough to the ground that he rolls on impact. He won’t have more than a few bruises from this, a marked improvement from the fractures he’d been planning for. Still, he takes his time getting to his feet, his leg stinging from where Queen Bansheera had been grabbing him.  
  
For a moment, he shuts his eyes, adjusting to being upright and on firm, unmoving ground. Then he looks up and finds Diabolico standing several feet away.  
  
“ _You,_ ” says Carter, forcing himself not to take as much as half a step back. “Do you want the first shot at me?”  
  
Diabolico laughs, and his form ripples around the edges, like smoke. “No, Red Ranger.”  
  
“Then why did you bring me here?” He would’ve thought Diabolico would hold him down so Queen Bansheera could kill him slowly, dragging out his suffering until his body gives out. “I know you haven’t had a change of heart.”  
  
“No,” Diabolico answers. “I hate you as much as I always have. All that’s changed is that I loathe Queen Bansheera more than you. She’s treacherous, and while you fought to kill me, you wouldn’t use your teammates like pawns to achieve your goal. _That_ is why I took you from her. The most perfect revenge I’m able to have is to see you and your precious _team_ achieve ultimate victory. For that, you must survive and escape the Shadow Realm.”  
  
There’s more to that story than Diabolico is sharing, but it’s that last bit that claims Carter’s full attention. “You mean, there’s a way out of here?”  
  
“Yes,” Diabolico answers. He floats a half circle around Carter, getting him to face away from where Queen Bansheera fell. “There is a way. The path repels those who would try to leave when they have no right to, but since you shouldn’t be here, you’ll be able to traverse it, and the gatekeepers will allow you passage. Heroic sacrifices have a way of swaying them towards loopholes.”  
  
“Loopholes?”  
  
“The Underworld has rules, much like the human world,” says Diabolico. “But I’m not here to teach you that. I’ll get you to the first gate. That’s as far as I can go.”  
  
Carter looks back, over his shoulder, at the smudge of red on the Shadow Realm’s sky. If his only other option is to stay here and face the horde of monsters, he may as well take this chance, right?  
  
Still, he asks, “How can I be sure you’re not leading me to certain death?”  
  
Diabolico gives a low chuckle. “You can’t be. But if it _comforts_ you, I could’ve killed you by now, yet I haven’t.”  
  
That’s a fair point. Diabolico could just as easily have let Queen Bansheera and the others converge upon him and rip him to pieces before he even touched the ground, a thought which makes Carter shiver even in the warm air.  
  
“Let’s go,” he says, nodding.  
  
“Follow me,” Diabolico responds, and he floats in the direction of the gate, moving farther from the sealed tomb with every moment.

 

* * *

 

The first gatekeeper takes one look at Carter and shakes their hawk-like head. “Oh, _another_ blessed child,” they say, giving the impression of rolling their fully violet eyes. “Will wonders never cease.”  
  
“This one is different from the others,” says Diabolico. “He’s alive.”  
  
“Yes, I know a living human when I see one,” says the gatekeeper. “What truly surprises me is that _you_ would bring him to me.”  
  
“A thirst for vengeance can move one to do even the most unexpected of things,” Diabolico tells them.  
  
The gatekeeper chuckles, the sound like gravel crunching underfoot. “In all my countless years at my post, this is, perhaps, a first. You bring me a boy who so valiantly fought you, for your selfish aims? Surely you’ll want to see him through all the way?”  
  
Carter narrows his eyes and fixes a glare on Diabolico. Of course he has his reasons. Of course he wants to get out of here, too. “As long as I have even a shred of life in me, I’m not letting you go back and hurt people again.”  
  
“Fear not, Ranger,” Diabolico tells him, lifting a hand to silence him. “Depriving Queen Bansheera of her victory is all I want. I know my place in the Underworld.”  
  
The gatekeeper laughs, rocks tumbling down a mountainside. “Why not go with him to the last gate? We will permit it. You’ve given me your selfish truth. See him through, so you know that you’ve achieved your goal, and so you may report it to the queen you so abhor.”  
  
“Agreed.”  
  
The air in the cavern shifts, the effect of the agreement almost palpable. Carter looks from Diabolico to the gatekeeper, acutely aware that, on some level, he’s part of this deal.  
  
“Well, living human,” the gatekeeper begins, turning their purple gaze on him, “you’ve been left for dead. Will you be welcomed as a hero, or will the wicked seek to imprison you? I imagine there will be many who will wish to poke and prod you, since, in their eyes, you will have resurrected. Perhaps they’ll seek to understand the miracle that has sustained many a soul in your often hideous world.”  
  
All at once, the air goes cold. Carter hadn’t stopped to think about the others, except to remind himself he’s done the right thing, by choosing to fall so they wouldn’t have to. But the rest of the city? The rest of the world?  
  
“They wouldn’t—” he begins, but he doesn’t continue. They _will_ pronounce him dead, won’t they? They may already have. No one has reason to believe he’d survive even a minute in the Shadow Realm, not with an army of monsters and demons waiting for him to hit the ground, and not with Queen Bansheera dragging him with her.  
  
“The world above knows far too little about the Underworld to comprehend what may happen to a living human who finds their way here,” says the gatekeeper. “You, yourself, have only thought of death as a distant, absolute thing your whole life, am I not correct?”  
  
“That’s right,” answers Carter.  
  
“So do you wish to be, in their eyes, the first human to come back from the Underworld in a time when the whole surface of the planet can be told the story in so little time?”  
  
To be known the world over would be a far heavier burden than to be known locally. Even though it’s likely that people around the globe have heard of Lightspeed, how many of them care? Outside of Mariner Bay, Carter and the others are just the next in line to protect people, and after the near catastrophe two years prior, when Dark Specter’s forces had declared victory over the Earth, most people have been busy chasing the team that had saved them then. The _Terra Venture_ project had garnered more national attention than Queen Bansheera’s attacks.  
  
Besides, there are others who have done this, who’ve actually died and come back to life.  
  
“I’m not the first,” he tells the gatekeeper. “And I bet I won’t be the last.” It’s a grim thought, but it’s realistic. Whether or not a new team of Rangers arises, there will always be small-scale heroes who die in their quest to save lives.  
  
“You’ll be the first whose story will come with a name and a face,” says the gatekeeper. “The others before you kept their deaths a secret, but you— You’re a local star. You’ll be catapulted higher than ever. Are you prepared for that? Are your friends prepared?”  
  
His friends would want him back if it were possible. Carter is sure of that. And it _is_ possible, so he will not let them down. Standing tall, he nods at the gatekeeper. “They will be. They’ll understand.”  
  
“They’ll understand a story fit for a god?”  
  
“I’ll tell them the truth,” Carter states. “Anyone who asks, I’ll tell them I found a way out. They’ll take my word for it. I’ve never lied to them.”  
  
The gatekeeper chuckles and dips their head in a long, deep bow. “I’m satisfied. You are unshakeable in your resolve. You may proceed.”  
  
They gesture to the far wall, and Carter notices for the first time since arriving here that there’s an archway in the stone, with a curtain that ripples like the surface of a crystalline pond.  
  
“Go, Ranger,” says Diabolico. “I’ll follow you.”  
  
And Carter does so, the cool touch of the curtain dissolving the tension in his shoulders, giving him back some of the energy he’d spent fighting above the ground and after what feels like a whole day’s worth of walking to reach this cavern, and filling him with hope.

  


* * *

  


In the second cavern, another several hours’ walk away, Carter hears a stream trickling by, but he can’t place its source, and soon he forgets it altogether.

“Where is your father, child?” the gatekeeper asks him. They step towards him, their garb of shimmering fish scales reflecting what little light there is to see by. “Where did he go when he left you and your mother when you were a tiny boy?”  
  
Carter holds his breath a moment as he thinks back to memories he’d buried a long time ago. He remembers emptiness, and he remembers his mother’s hand on his shoulder as she assured him they’d be fine, and it was better this way. As a young boy, he hadn’t understood it all, but he’d known enough even then to doubt that grown-ups could keep such promises.  
  
“I don’t know,” he answers, shaking his head, focusing on the gatekeeper’s deep blue eyes. It’s too much to see, in his mind’s eye, his mother’s face. When was the last time he saw her? How is she taking his apparent death? “It doesn’t matter.”  
  
“Doesn’t it?”  
  
He shakes his head, and there’s not a trace of anger in his voice as he says, “Not at all. My mother was right. We were better off without him.”  
  
“You wouldn’t want to tell him so, face to face?”  
  
“No. He’s seen the news, even if he left Mariner Bay altogether. He knows how far I’ve come, and that’s all thanks to my mother, and thanks to Captain Mitchell saving my life that day and inspiring me to be a firefighter.” He shrugs. “I’ve said that, and I’ve thanked them in interviews. He’s heard it. I have nothing to say to him.”  
  
“I see,” says the gatekeeper, nodding. “You have such faith in the memories that sustain your convictions. I find this surprising, given the altercation in which a part of them was erased, and the attempt to restore them nearly killed you.”

Yes, he recalled that day. Standing in Ms. Fairweather’s lab, watching Dana fight the monster on her own as the others, their memories restored, went to help her. Her persistence, her dedication to the team and the cause, her spirit—Dana had been why he’d been able to remember what the monster had taken from him. When all of Lightspeed’s advanced technology had failed to help him, one person’s will had been enough to give him back his life.

“My friends helped me get my memories back,” he tells the gatekeeper.

“Your friends? Why, all of them had lost their own memories, hadn’t they, Diabolico?”

“All but one,” states Diabolico. Carter turns in time to see him nod.

“Ryan Mitchell’s sister, yes?” the gatekeeper asks.

Carter glares at them. “Her name is Dana.”

“Yes, the daughter. The Mitchells have such a long history here,” the gatekeeper remarks. “Well, not so long to us, but to you, living human—almost an entire lifetime’s worth of history. However, I digress. A human as fallible as you helped you get back what a monster had stolen? And you trust these memories now? You trust that the work of the scientists didn’t alter the memories you’d been left with?”

“Yes, I do.”

The gatekeeper laughs—waves crashing on the beach on a calm day. “Your hero—William Mitchell—you remember how he watched you from afar?”

Carter opens his mouth to respond, then frowns. Captain Mitchell had mentioned that he’d kept an eye on Carter from that day forward, but he’d not imagined he’d meant it literally. Checking in once or twice to see if he was doing all right, possibly, out of some attachment that may have developed for the life he’d saved. But this—this implies something less pleasant.

“You remember a day at the beach,” the gatekeeper continues, and Carter sees the memory clearly, as if he were standing in it. The cavern disappears, and the sun beats down on the stretch of coast, and he digs for treasure in the sand.

His mother is sitting in the shade of a beach umbrella nearby, reading a book and glancing up at him now and again. One time when he catches her gaze, he waves at her with a sand-coated hand, and as she waves back, a man approaches her.

They chat for a few moments. Carter watches them, looking away when the man glances at him and smiles.

The part of Carter that is no longer that little boy recognizes the man, the scar on his cheek, the warm smile he saves for his children even now.

“Where’s Dana?” he asks, frowning. He isn’t sure who he’s asking, because he’s in the memory, so he’s a child, only—no, this happened years ago. He’s an adult now, and this day at the beach feels wrong.

“This isn’t right,” he says, thinking of the gatekeeper’s glowing, blue eyes. “Why would he come to the beach without Dana? She would’ve been a little kid. He would’ve brought her with him.” She’s mentioned trips to the beach with her father, and even if she hadn’t, Carter knows that they’re close, that they always were, and that Captain Mitchell would’ve wanted to know his only remaining child was safe.

“This never happened,” Carter states, his voice firm, and as he shakes his head, the cavern comes back into focus. As his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, he narrows his eyes on the steady blue of the gatekeeper’s eyes and says, “Captain Mitchell wouldn’t have done that. He’s been more of a father to me these past few months than anyone else has ever been, and men like that— _people_ like that don’t stalk children.”

Nodding slowly, the gatekeeper extends a webbed hand and gestures to the other end of the cavern, where an archway like the prior one awaits him.

“Go,” the gatekeeper tells him and Diabolico. “Time has passed more quickly than you think, and for one with so short a lifespan, you’d do well not to waste any.”

Carter nods at them and goes to the gate. He pauses for a second before the curtain, noting how Diabolico’s presence is burning and steady behind him. Strange, how his old enemy is now his only ally.

With a deep breath, he walks through the gate and onto the next one.

 

* * *

 

“This will be the last of them,” Diabolico tells Carter as they enter the cavern, this one smaller. There’s a river running through it, towards which Diabolico nods. “I can’t go across the river. It marks the boundary between you and your end goal.”

“And your end goal is just to see me cross it,” Carter states.

“Correct.”

“Are you satisfied?” Carter turns his head, taking in the rippling quality of Diabolico’s spirit. “Are you really going to be happy with just knowing Queen Bansheera didn’t kill me?”

“Happiness is irrelevant to me,” Diabolico answers, “but satisfaction? I will feel that. And I’ll feel pride, and I’ll enjoy having gotten my revenge over the one who killed my trusted allies with no remorse.”

Carter smiles, a little bit smug, a little bit sympathetic. “I never thought I’d care for how _you_ , of all people, will spend the rest of eternity.”

Shrugging, Diabolico says, “I never thought I’d see the day I’d help a Ranger.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t. My reasons for showing you the path are purely selfish.”

“After everything I’ve been through,” Carter begins, and he takes a breath and looks at the river, “I’ve realized that being selfish isn’t always a bad thing.”

Diabolico snorts, but and understands. Or, if nothing else, he can begin to. Maybe it really is only about revenge for Diabolico, but for Carter, it’s his life, and his friends’ well-being, and the world’s continued existence.

Nodding, he goes to the river, and the gatekeeper, a tall being with a wolf’s ears and orange eyes, tells him, “You may pay the toll, or you may wade across.”

“What’s the toll?” Carter asks.

“Tell me why you’re making this journey, child of Power.”

Carter smiles. “Lots of reasons. I miss my friends. They probably think I’m as good as dead, and I want to show them I’m not that easy to get rid of. I think it’ll make people really happy to see the good guys win. I want to go home, I want to see my mom. I promised Dana we’d go for ice cream.” He looks up and sees the gatekeeper nod at him. Have they been doing that this whole time? “Oh, and if I can be petty, as much as I know I did the right thing, I wish it hadn’t had to come to this. I wish I hadn’t had to be sealed here for the world to be safe. I want to celebrate with my friends, I want to hug them all, I want a bonfire on the beach, and I really want to have a date where I don’t end up with ice cream on my sweater.”

“Yes,” says the gatekeeper, still bobbing their head in a rhythmic nod, only stopping when they lift their arms to him. “You have paid the toll. You may cross the river.”

Carter walks across the river, whose waters never rise above his ankles. When he is on the other side, he looks back at Diabolico, who nods once at him.

“Revenge is sweet,” Diabolico states, laughing his low, rumbling chuckle.

“The rest of your journey lies beyond the final gate, child,” the gatekeeper tells Carter. “Go on, then, living human. Go back to your world, and do not return here until you enter through death.”

“I’ll do my best,” Carter responds, and he goes through the gate.


	6. The Silent Steppe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Kramer 1963: pp. 132-133" is given [here](http://www.illuminati-news.com/sumerian-mythology.htm) as a citation for taboos of the Sumerian underworld mentioned in a story about Enkidu, among which is being noisy. (Ignore the fact that the link has 'illuminati' in the address. I've read it elsewhere, but this is the only reference I found when I backtracked to share it here.)

When they emerge from the third gate, they are greeted by an overcast sky and a dark, gloomy field. Cool gusts, like the ones that preface summer storms above the earth, blow across the plain, and the grass bends beneath their force.

“This isn’t the Shadow Realm,” says Dana.

“No,” Ryan agrees. “But I’ve been here before. I used to train here sometimes. Diabolico called it the Silent Steppe.”

“We have to get to the Shadow Realm. That’s where Carter is. We’re never going to find him _here_.”

He shakes his head. “If the third gate led us here, then this is where he is.”

“What if this is another trick? Another test?”

“It’s not. There are laws. We gave them what they wanted, so we get to keep going towards our goal.”

“I hope you’re right,” she murmurs. The plain seems endless, but she can’t lose hope, not now, after they’ve been through so much to get here. “So, since you know this place, you know the way out. You know how we’re going to get back home.”  
  
Ryan nods and turns to meet her gaze. “But first, we find Carter.” 

“Right.” Smiling, she gives his hand a squeeze.

There is no path to follow, so they walk straight forward across the plain. After so long in damp caves, the relatively dry air feels good—and it’s this thought that makes her realize her clothes aren’t went. She touches her hair with her free hand and finds that it, too, is dry. A glance at Ryan tells her he has also dried off, but she doesn’t mention it. It must have been the gate that got them dry, and what a good thing, too, or else they’d be freezing out on the windy field.

The farther they go, the more tired she gets, the exhaustion of the whole journey hitting her all at once. She tries with all her might to keep pace with her brother, but soon, she starts to lag behind. The first few times, she forces herself to walk faster and stay by his side, but after the third time, they both stop.

“You okay?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at her.

She leans over and puts a hand on one knee, answering, “I’m getting really tired.”

“We can’t stop. It’s not safe to stay still here for too long.”

“Even if it’s just a minute?” She’s aware she sounds like a child, but she’s also aware that overexertion can do them harm. They’re too far from proper medical care to risk hurts they can avoid.

“Yes,” he insists. He casts his gaze around the field, narrowing his eyes. “There are creatures here that will try to hurt us.”

Sighing sharply, she straightens. “Okay.”

They go more slowly now, but moving, always moving. Now that she knows there are enemies lurking, Dana is on high alert, looking around for signs of danger as well as signs of Carter. He should be easy to spot, at least, in this grey, dreary place.

She thinks she hears something rustling in the grass, but there’s nothing there when she snaps her head in its direction, nothing but the sea of grass bending for a passing gust.

“Come on.” Ryan tugs at her hand. “We need to keep going.”

Nodding, she hurries up to him. A few slow, deep breaths give her a little strength back. She forces away the thought of how nice it would be to stop after all those trials, all the heartache from yesterday morning ‘til now. What matters now is finding Carter and getting out of here together.

So she looks for him against the growing darkness, shielding her eyes against the stronger gusts. When her legs begin to hurt, she reminds herself that Ryan must be in pain, too, but he’s not stopping, either.

She shuts her eyes for a moment that turns into a few, long seconds, trusting her brother to keep looking, and thinks of home, of all of them together again.

“Dana,” says Ryan. “There he is!”

She snaps to attention, scanning the plain with tired eyes.

There, as far as she can see, is a figure in a jacket she knows all too well, walking towards them.

The sight of him renews her strength. She grins at her brother, and together, they set off at a run.

It takes Carter a few seconds to realize who the two figures are who are heading towards him, but as soon as he does—and Dana can almost see the realization hit him, his whole stance broadening as if to embrace them from afar—he speeds off to them.

They meet almost half way, Dana releasing Ryan’s hand and throwing her arms around Carter, whose joyous hug lifts her off the ground. She feels like she’s soaring, body and soul, even when he sets her back down.

“What are you guys doing here?” he asks as he pulls Ryan into a brief, less exuberant, but no less grateful embrace.

“Looking for you,” Dana tells him as he and Ryan pull apart. “Did you think we’d just leave you for dead?”

His grin widening, he shakes his head. “I was on my way back. I should be almost at the surface, but I don’t see a door or a gate anywhere.”

Dana turns and looks back in the direction she and Ryan came from. “We came from over there, so we should go in another direction.” As far as she can see, there is only endless steppe grassland and the threat of a storm. “Ryan says he’s been here before.”

Carter nods at him and opens his mouth to start talk when a loud rustling sound cuts him off.

“What was that?” he asks instead.

Cursing under his breath, Ryan grabs Dana’s wrist. “Move. _Now_.”

They begin to, Dana taking Carter’s hand so that they’re all together, connected, but they barely make it a few steps out before three creatures rise up out of the grass.

They are massive as they walk a circle around them, their movements smooth and serpentine, with a scorpion tail each, sharp talons, and scales the color of the grass.

“You are going the wrong way,” they say in unison, their voices hissing whispers that carry loud and clear. “ _Where, oh, where are you going,_ loud spirits of the dead? You are going the wrong way, you must head for the Underworld to find peace!”

“We aren’t dead,” Carter tells them.

“Only the dead wander here,” answer the creatures, moving around them so swiftly that they blur for a second, “or those who seek death.”

“We’ve all passed three gates to get here,” Ryan says.

“You,” say the creatures. “You are the boy from the Skull Cavern, the one who sought to fight us and ours here time and time again.”

“Yes,” Ryan answers.

“You seek to fight once more,” they hiss.

“We seek to _leave_ ,” Dana answers.

“Why, then— _why did you stop_? So close to the exit, why did you stop?”

“Because we found each other,” she tells them. “We’d been searching, and—”

“ _Searching_ ,” they whisper. “You seek rest. Rest lies beyond the river and the gates—”

“That’s where the dead go,” Ryan says. “We’re not dead.”

“ _You will be_.”

The creatures stop to bare their sharp teeth in a hungry, frenzied grin, then swoop in to attack.

Dana crouches to avoid one creature’s swipe just as Ryan lets go of her hand and does a spinning kick, knocking one of the creatures down. Carter ducks to avoid it, too, and swipes the creature’s legs out from under it with a kick.

Pulling her hand back, Dana stands and faces the third one, who charges right for her, arms raised and ready to tear her apart. The creature leaps, and she dives under it, rolling out of its way. She gets to her feet in time to see Ryan block the same creature’s swipe, his eyes focused but relaxed.

This must be how he trained when he came here.

If he could fight them as a child, then all three of them could take them now.

A creature hisses past her. Dana follows the sound, hears it start to come back. She aims a kick at chest height as it draws nearer. The creature rams right into her boot, going too fast to avoid it.

As it falls, she looks up to check on her teammates. Ryan punches one in the back of the head. When it falls to the ground, it stays down, and Ryan goes to help Carter, who is grappling with another creature.

The one she’d just kicked stands, screeching as it runs to her. The sound is shrill, hurting her ears so badly that she covers them and twists out of the creature’s path. It repeats the attack, and Dana weaves out of its path again and again. She won’t win this way, she knows it, but the shrieking is so harsh it could unhinge her altogether.

As she evades another lunging attack, she glances up to see Ryan and Carter moving almost in synchronicity to fight their creature, who keeps whirling, swinging out an arm or a leg with every turn to keep them away from its weak point.

Dana stares for a moment too long, and the creature attacking her lands a kick to her hip. She staggers back, swinging her arms out to regain her balance. The creature screeches again, and instead of charging at her, this time it turns and strikes her with its tail. It’s heavy, knocking her down in one hit.

Wincing, she forces herself up. She steps back and just out of range of a kick. In the corner of her eye, she sees Carter grab the other creature’s wrists and pull it down for Ryan to swing at. She blocks a jab, only to be shoved backwards. Right as she straightens, the creature swings its tail at her. She only has time to lean back and squeeze her eyes shut, but the tip of its tail scrapes her chin, breaking skin and dragging venom across the wound.

It burns worse than anything she’s ever felt. For a few moments, this pain is all she can think about, giving the creature more than enough time to kick her legs out from under her and pin her on the ground.

The impact leaves her breathless, but it brings her awareness back to the steppe and the fight she is losing—the fight she’s already lost. She’s going to die here. After a year fighting the demons above ground, after finally beating them and getting Ryan back, after making it through those three awful gates and finding Carter, she’s going to die before she even gets to enjoy a fragment of all her victories.

The creature shrieks again, raising a clawed hand as it stares her down.

Then its eyes go blank, and as it begins to collapse, Ryan and Carter shove it away. It falls onto its stomach a foot or two away from Dana.

“It stung me,” she says, her voice shaking as the chilly wind starts to worm its way through her clothes.

The boys kneel at either side of her, Ryan leaning in close to inspect her wound.

“Are they poisonous?” Carter asks.

“Yes.” Ryan touches the edges of the cut.

Dana winces, gritting her teeth, forcing herself to stay still.

“It’s just a surface cut. You’ll be fine.”

“How can you be sure?” Carter demands. “Those beings were—”

“It’s so _cold_ ,” Dana says. She shuts her eyes, as if that will help somehow.

“We have to get out of here,” Ryan states. “As soon as they’re gone, more will come for us if we don’t move.”

She feels them each take one of her arms and put them around their shoulders, lifting her up. A gust blows past them, and she shivers almost convulsively. The tips of her boots skim the ground now and then, but she is otherwise doing nothing to help them. In fact, she is slowing them down. They’ll never outrun those creatures like this, and she knows there are more of them, she hears the grass rustling as they give chase, hears their shrill screams growing louder with every step.

Over the cacophony, the boys’ voices sound like murmurs.

“They said we were close to the exit,” Carter tells Ryan. “Where is it? I don’t see anything.”

“We won’t _see_ it, not quite,” Ryan replies.

“Run,” Dana tells them, as the screeching grows louder. “ _Run_ , they’re right behind us!” She opens her eyes as she feels them speed up a little. The sky is growing darker, tinged with red, like the portion of the Shadow Realm they’d seen from the tomb in the Skull Cavern.

“That’s got to be the poison,” Carter says, glancing at her, then at Ryan.

“Yes,” Ryan answers.

“ _Don’t slow down_ ,” she insists, squeezing her eyes shut and shivering in the next gust. A shriek rings right in her ear. She leans her head against Ryan’s shoulder to shield herself from the sound.

“Sunlight,” she hears him say, his voice quiet, fading. “Fresh air.”

She trembles more violently, even as the wind seems to fall still.

“There it is!” Carter cries.

Dana cracks open her eyes long enough to see a light ahead of them. It’s so bright, and the screeching seems to grow louder as they approach it. There’s another sound now, too, a voice screaming. It’s coming from the light, she thinks, drowning out what the boys say. She starts to struggle, trying to pull them in another direction, but she isn’t sure anymore if she’s even moving. Her limbs feel heavy, and she can’t get enough air in her lungs.

Then, all at once, the world goes silent, except for that one scream—her voice.

The air is hot. The three of them fall to their knees, dirt and tiny rocks scraping Dana’s skin.

She breathes heavily, still shivering, though much less so as heat seeps into her skin

Heat. Sunlight? She opens her eyes. Yes—and blue skies, and the cliff where the accident happened, and behind them, the mouth of the cave to the Underworld.

Someone cups her face, lifting it up into the sunlight. The brightness hurts her eyes, and she shuts them before she is able to see who it is.

“It’s healing,” says Ryan. He laughs. “You’re going to be okay.”

“We made it?” she asks.

“Yes.” He lets go of her face.

“Isn’t she still poisoned?” asks Carter, pulling her up with him as he stands.

“It only works in the Underworld,” Ryan explains. “I got cut up all the time fighting them. Diabolico brought me to the surface until it passed. Living people can’t be on the Silent Steppe or places for the dead for long, or we’ll start to die. Dana, that’s why you were tired before we found Carter.”

“Oh,” she manages. Her head is still aching from the scorpion creatures’ awful screaming, but she’s able to stand now, with support. She leans heavily on Carter, but she’s on her feet, and she is slowly feeling better.

“The poison accelerates that process,” Ryan continues. “We’re lucky we were close. We almost lost you.”

There’s a note of despair in his voice that tugs at Dana’s heart, and she opens her eyes, ignoring the pain as her pupils strain to shrink. She reaches for Ryan’s hand and pulls him close. When he’s near, she touches her forehead to his chest and sighs. “Thank you. For saving me. For _everything_.” She gives a breathy laugh. “We’re home. All of us.”

In their close huddle, she feels every movement the other two make, how Carter clasps Ryan’s shoulder and Ryan nods in response.

“We’re in time for the vigil,” says Ryan.

Dana lifts her head to gaze at the sky. The sun is beginning its descent, the edge of the sky starting to change colors.

“Vigil?” asks Carter.

“For you,” says Dana.

Carter laughs, his hold on her shifting ever so slightly. She doesn’t need to lean against him anymore, but she doesn’t move to indicate that. She’s not going to let him go until she has to, a small part of her still afraid this is all a dream, or that they’re dead now, all of them, and stuck in the Underworld.

They aren’t, though. An airplane is flying overhead just now, and after all she’s witnessed, she’s certain the dead don’t need machines to take them to and fro.

“We left the car not far from here,” Ryan says, nodding towards the cliff up above. “You both okay to climb back up?”

“I am,” answers Carter.

“Me, too,” says Dana. Her eyes have adjusted now, and aside from the soreness from where the scorpion-being hit her, she feels as strong as ever.

Carter smiles down at her as he pulls away, letting her stand on her own. “I’m buying you the world’s biggest sundae after this.”

“Deal,” she says, grinning.

“Come on,” Ryan tells them, taking Dana’s hand as he starts for the path up the cliff. “Let’s show them what a miracle looks like.”

Dana follows, glancing over her shoulder, and unlike Orpheus and Eurydice, no curse befalls them for her need to confirm he’s there. She takes Carter’s hand and leads him up the path, away from the Underworld until death knocks on their door.


End file.
